Christmas?
by MaskedDreamer
Summary: One Shot sequal to The Nightingale's Journey, made espeically for Christmas. Erik shares his first Christmas with Loralee and Aimeé in his lair. R


**Hello, my fellow readers! This story is completely dedicated to my friend (you know who you are) and I wish her a Merry Christmas! **

**Merry Christmas to all the other readers, also!**

**Disclaimer (a.k.a waster-of-my-and-your-time): I don't anything to do with Phantom of the Opera.**

**Summary: Erik shares his first Christmas with his daughter. One shot.**

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"Christmas!"

"Yes, Erik. Christmas. It's only twelve days away."

He stared stupidly at Loralee.

They had been married for almost two years now and remained loyally in love and honest with each other. Their daughter, Aimeé Belle Donoghue, was nearly eight months and (as pointed out by Loralee) about to experience her first Christmas.

Loralee, sighed, taking Aimeé's giggling form from Erik's arms.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Christmas."

Erik looked hurt.

"Of course I know what Christmas is. What makes you think otherwise?"

"Your obvious lack of physical expression."

He shot her an exasperated glare, before picking his book about Russian Architecture back up to read. Erik swore that over the years he was rubbing more and more off on her.

"Well, let it be stated that I do know what Christmas is."

Loralee smiled and then rocked Aimeé back and forth.

"It's going to be Aimeé's first Christmas. I want it to be very special for her."

"We want everything to be very special for her; this is nothing new."

His wife shook her head and sat down.

"Some times I wonder why I decided to marry you," she grumbled. Erik smiled slightly and went over to sit down next to her. Her wrapped his arms around her so that he wouldn't squish Aimeé and hugged her, breathing in her sweet smelling hair.

"Because I'm the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to you," he said. Loralee giggled while wriggling, trying to get his head away from her neck.

"That tickles!" Erik knew what did and just breathed more onto her sensitive neck. She squirmed, making Aimeé giggle. "Stop it, Erik!"

He was only stopped when a faint drop of collected moisture fell smack down on his forehead. Erik jumped up and glared at the ceiling of his lair, as if daring the ceiling to drip again.

Either Erik's stare wasn't harsh enough or the drops gave no heed, because in only a matter of seconds another fell down from the ceiling onto Loralee's black waves of hair. She felt the sudden drop and looked up, shielding Aimeé from any more stray pellets of moisture.

"Erik, as much as I love you, I still hold fast to the belief that the lairs condition will ruin Aimeé's health."

Loralee gently patted her daughter's back while smoothing out her black hair.

She knew that Erik had specifically made new inventions to keep Aimeé safe and healthy down in the lair while she grew up, but Loralee was always unsure of the fact.

"Loralee. . ."

She shook her head, standing up next to Erik.

"Let's just forget about it," she stated hastily, not wanting to get into a disagreement with Erik. "There are more important topics, any ways."

Erik raised the visible eyebrow.

"Like what?"

"Like what we're going to get Aimeé for Christmas."

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Loralee rolled over in their bed after she woke up. The softness of the sheets engulfed her senses with drowsy delight as she groggily blinked open her eyes in the faintly candle lit cave.

Then realization struck her.

"Erik!" she squealed, rolling back over so that she was almost lying on top of her sleeping husband. His face was bare of the mask and his true deformity was in full view of Loralee. She loved him too much to care, though, and was glad he was slowly getting used to not wearing that infernal scrap of leather around herself and Aimeé.

"Erik, wake up!"

He opened an eye and stared up at his wife.

"Get up, lazy. Get up!"

He slowly sat up, Loralee getting off of him and jumping quickly into her slippers while throwing a robe over her night clothes. Erik rubbed his eyes, grumbling.

"What the blazes are you doing, Loralee? It must be only 6:30 in the morning."

He was about to fall back into the bed but Loralee grabbed onto his arm, keeping him up.

"Oh, no you don't! You've got a daughter out there who needs a father with her to celebrate her first Christmas."

"Oh!" Erik exclaimed, finally realizing the cause of Loralee's excitement. He too got into his robe and followed Loralee into Aimeé's room.

"Good morning, beautiful," Erik said, scooping up a newly wakened Aimeé. He kissed her on the head and straightened out her clothes before handing her over to Loralee who walked out into the room.

Two days ago, Erik was able to haul a Christmas Tree down into his lair with help from a young boy working behind stage at the Opera House. Loralee had trimmed the tree with Erik, placing her first few gifts under the tree. Erik also placed some under, and Aimeé, seeing her parents placing objects under the tree, climbed underneath it herself. For some reason her parents had found this terribly amusing.

Now it was twinkling merrily in the faint glow of candles. Erik went around, brightening up the room, and afterwards could smell the faint aroma of cinnamon buns from the kitchens. Aimeé crawled onto his lap and he gently bounced her.

Loralee had proven to be an amazing cook. Well, amazing at cooking everything except fish. The first time Erik had tasted her fish had been his last, and even Loralee had to agree it was revolting. Her cinnamon buns this morning proved to be delicious, however, and fit in with the Christmas spirit.

After the food was eaten, the presents began to be opened. Loralee had gotten songs for ballet by Erik, written just for her. She had gotten him the finest wine she could find and also a new cloak. Aimeé was overwhelmed with presents from many members of the Opera Populaire. Ever since birth, Aimeé had been a big hit in the Opera House.

The morning was over faster than Erik would have liked. Aimeé was peacefully asleep in her crib again while Erik and Loralee enjoyed a glass of wine in front of the fire. Both enjoyed the silence, but both happened to break it at the same time.

"I still have to -" Loralee said.

"You know, I have -" Erik said at the same time. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."

"Well, I'm just saying I still have one present for you."

"You do, do you?" Erik asked, watching her get up and go over into the kitchen. After a little bit she came back out, carrying a rather large box with holes in it. It rattled as she placed it down and Erik didn't have to think hard about what the present was.

He took off the box top and, sure enough, found a black kitten inside with one pure white paw. It's green eyes pierced up into Erik's and it mewed softly.

"It's adorable," Erik exclaimed, making Loralee chuckle. He picked up the kitten, and placed it in his lap where it was immediately petted by Erik's agile fingers. It purred with pleasure and snuggled into Erik's hand, inviting him to pamper her more.

"I'd hope you like it. I found her for sale and bought her immediately, knowing you enjoy animals."

Both admired the beautiful feline in silence for a while.

"What are you going to name her?" Erik asked Loralee. She looked up, shocked.

"Me? No. I'm not going to name her. She's your kitten."

Erik thought.

"How about Molly."

The kitten cocked his head when Erik said "Molly" and meowed as if agreeing. Loralee chuckled.

"Molly it is! Now what were you about to say to me?"

Erik stood up, placing Molly in Loralee's lap.

"I too have one last present for you."

He disappeared to the other side of the room, fishing through his desk for something. Finally, with a triumphant "A-ha!", Erik held up an envelop. He carried it back and handed it to his wife. She stared at it, curiously.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Erik asked, his familiar impatience butting in. Loralee opened it and looked at the contents.

"Oh my. . ." she whispered to herself, eyes widening. "You can't be serious."

"I assure you, Loralee. I'm fully serious."

The look in his eyes and his stern voice was enough to convince Loralee.

The envelope contained a form stating that if signed, the Donoghue family officially owned a cottage only a little ways out of town.

"I remembered your regrets about living down here," Erik said, the strain in his voice betraying his pain at the possibility of leaving his home. "I only want you and Aimeé to be happy, so I thought this would please you."

Loralee didn't know what to say.

"If you don't like it you can of course refuse. . ." Erik sounded rather hopeful.

Her husband, the man once supposedly a bloody, ruthless murderer, was the most sensitive, kind man she had ever met. This present confused her, however.

It was obvious that Erik didn't want to leave the lair which had been his home for almost his whole life. She had always had her annoyances with her current home and was always afraid that Aimeé wouldn't be happy down here, but they were petty worries; worries that should be worried about because their quite impossible.

Loralee couldn't deny, however, that she had wanted this new cottage dearly.

Looking up into Erik's eyes, Loralee frowned slightly, thinking furiously. Erik watched her, anxious, as she debated the answer.

". . . No. . ." she said quietly. Erik's head snapped up and he stared at Loralee, surprised.

"What?" he asked.

"I said no," Loralee repeated, more strongly. Then, determinedly, she took the paper and ripped it in half.

Erik smiled uncertainly.

"You. . . You're deciding to stay here?" he asked, as if not believing.

"Yes, I am, because it isn't worth ruining my love's happiness. Besides, Aimeé has grown quite fond of it down here."

Erik laughed out loud, hugging his wife as if she had just given him the world.

And in a way, she had.

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**Hope you all enjoyed! Please review, and Merry Christmas to all!**


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